


La donna morta

by ChrisLeon



Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard
Genre: Canon-Typical Succubine Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Johannes is there is spirit but not in person, Leonie and Zarenyia's adventures in Italy, post-The Fall of the House of Cabal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisLeon/pseuds/ChrisLeon
Summary: After narrowly escaping the trial of the Five Ways, Leonie and Zarenyia decide to spend some time abroad before returning to their usual lives. Unfortunately, neither of them are very good at 'normal.' Adventure and danger find the two of them, whether they're looking for it or not.
Relationships: Leonie Barrow & Zarenyia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

_ Il peccato piccolo _ was a perfectly respectable establishment. True to its name, no great evil had ever taken place within its four walls. In its tenure as a trattoria in Florence, it had seen no worse crimes than infidelity and one attempted stabbing. It served local cuisine to local people and the few tourists who got lost enough to find it and the even fewer tourists who were pretentious enough to seek it out. The dining area had a pleasant atmosphere and the food ranged from adequate to quite good, depending on the day of the week. This, of course, is all to say that this little trattoria, this  _ little sin _ , did not deserve what was happening inside it.

Sharing a table against a wall, two men sat. They were discussing something of great importance, as a particularly observant person may have gathered from how they spoke quickly and in hushed tones, every now and then glancing up to make sure none of the staff or other diners were paying them any mind. Luckily for them, the staff were occupied elsewhere and the few other patrons were all engrossed in their own conversations. 

Nearest to the pair of men, a few empty tables away, was a pair of women. One was a blonde and her companion was a redhead, they were both-in appearance, at least-fairly young, and they were both speaking English.

“If you ask me, she should have killed him,” said the red haired woman, who was not really a woman at all, but rather a Devil of the Outer Reaches, “she was clearly thinking about it.”

“You always suggest murder,” replied Leonie Barrow, amatuer detective and normal woman who often found herself party to all kinds of abnormal happenings. 

“In this case, even you, with all your pesky morals, must agree it would not have been undeserved.

Leonie winced slightly into her wine glass at how casually Zarenyia discussed murder. When their discussion of art history had turned to weighing the merits of homicide, she wasn’t sure, but most conversations with Zarenyia circled back to death at some point. 

“What we may think he deserved really isn’t relevant, the court made their decision. And besides, neither of us were there and we can’t change what happened, so this debate is pointless.” She thought for a moment, “You weren’t there, were you?”

“I was not,” Zarenyia said, almost wistfully, “but I am something of an expert in corruption and that court was hardly unbiased. And,” she said pointedly, “I am very familiar with the pastime of fantasizing about killing men. So I say again, Ms. Gentileschi should have put down the paint brush and picked up that sword herself.”

Leonie sighed, but she knew trying to argue Zarenyia out of murder was a sisyphean task and in this case, though she wouldn’t admit it, to avoid giving the Devil any ground, she didn’t completely disagree. She opted instead to try changing the subject.

“You know a lot about religious art for,” she waved vaguely at Zarenyia’s everything, “someone like yourself.”

“Even I have a sense of aesthetics, dear. And beautiful, mostly naked men being brutally murdered is practically tailor made for me. I wonder what all those Baroque Catholics would think, knowing a Devil appreciates their work.” She smiled gleefully at the prospect of ruining Caravaggio’s day. 

“You’re terrible,” Leonie said, almost affectionately. 

“I am, aren’t I?” Zarenyia said with a grin that made Leonie’s heart race momentarily spike. “But I’m hardly an outlier. I’m not even the only person here advocating murder.”

“What?” Leonie exclaimed, suddenly sitting up much straighter in her seat. A few heads turned in their direction at her outburst and she made sure to lower her voice before continuing, “What are you talking about?”

“Those two men by the wall,” Zarenyia tilted her head slightly, “they’re planning a robbery and trying to come up with contingency plans in case someone catches them. The one closest to us doesn’t think he’s quite cut out for murder, but his friend claims to have done it before and says it’s really not so bad.”

“You can’t be serious. They’re discussing robbery and murder over dinner?”

“We are also discussing murder over dinner. And they  _ are _ whispering. I doubt anyone else has noticed; you didn’t.”

Leonie huffed, irrationally annoyed at Zarenyia for having supernatural hearing and at herself for not immediately noticing the two men who, now that she really looked, did seem rather suspicious. 

“We need to do something.”

“What did you have in mind?” Zarenyia asked, already considering the best way to kill them herself.

“Tell the authorities, of course. Did you hear any details? What they’re planning on trying to steal? Or when?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Zarenyia said, looking quite unbothered, “my interest was piqued when I heard the possibility of murder, but I wasn’t listening that closely. I’d much rather pay attention to you, dear,” she finished with a wink. 

“I can’t just let them walk out of here and commit robbery and possibly murder.”

“I can take care of them right now, if you really want. It would be my pleasure,” Zarenyia offered helpfully.

“And what of everyone else here? Remember your dibs.”

“Then I suppose you have some morally upstanding way of handling this, then?”

Leonie thought for a moment. The most responsible thing would be to tell the authorities and then forget about it. But what would she even tell them? Her companion had used her supernatural hearing to listen in on a conversation of two men planning a robbery? A claim she couldn’t even back up because she hadn’t heard it herself? 

No, they couldn’t go to the authorities with so little. 

Leonie looked back at Zarenyia who was staring at her expectantly. 

“We could investigate a bit ourselves, just to get some more information to pass onto the police.”

“Oh, of course,” Zarenyia clapped her hands together eagerly. “We should probably finish up here, because it looks like our new friends are getting their check.”

She was right and Leonie quickly decided she wasn’t very hungry anymore. She tried making eye contact with a waiter to ask for the bill and when that didn’t work, she stood and reached for her coat and suddenly, he manifested at her side. 

After paying, they rushed out after the two men. Leonie spotted them walking away and without thinking, grabbed Zarenyia’s hand to pull her along.

“Oh, isn’t this exciting?” Zarenyia said, not minding being manhandled one bit, “another adventure!”

“Shush, we don’t want to alert them.” Zarenyia acquiesced, but failed to appear at all sorry. 

They caught up enough that Leonie slowed their pace to a more casual walk. Enough to keep the two men firmly in their sights, but slow enough that they just looked like two people out for a stroll. 

They followed the men-who, disappointingly, did nothing criminal-for several minutes. The streets around them became busier and busier as the men led them to a piazza crowded with people. Leonie worried briefly that they had been made and the men were attempting to lose them in the crowd, but rather than enter the thickest part of the fray, they stopped on a corner. She could see their lips moving, but it was impossible to make anything out at that distance.

“Can you hear them?” she asked Zarenyia.

“Even I’m not that talented,” said Zarenyia, “at least, not with my ears. Perhaps if there was less background noise, but no, I can’t hear them.”

The men had not moved from their spot. One of them had pulled out a pack of cigarettes and they appeared content to stay where they were. Leonie did not want to risk moving closer and being spotted. If the men recognized them from the restaurant, they could become suspicious. 

“Let’s wait here. We can keep an eye on them and go after them if they move.” Zarenyia hummed in agreement, her attention having already been drawn elsewhere. 

“You know, I’m not  _ starving _ ,” she said conversationally, “but I could go for a snack and there really are so many options here.”

“If we really are dealing with murderers, you may get your chance.”

“Why, Miss Barrow! I thought we were turning these men over to the authorities. But fine, like I said, I can wait to eat.” She raised an eyebrow, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Leonie asked, concerned. She’d just eaten and her’s and Zarenyia’s tastes were quite different.

“You don’t have any  _ appetites _ you’d like to sate while abroad?”

“We are in the middle of something, if you haven’t noticed. You really have quite the one track mind.”

Zarenyia smiled, unabashed, “Ooh, what about him, the gentleman over there in the suit; he looks like he knows how to treat a woman.”

“Zarenyia, please.”

“Or the lady over there in the red scarf with the curls? She looks sweet. Is that your type? Sweet?”

“I’m sure there will be a better time for this conversation,” Leonie said, half wishing that her targets would suddenly don balaclavas and pull out handguns, if it meant she could escape Zarenyia’s suggestions.

“Or him? Tall, dark and handsome across the way? Or would you prefer tall and blond? Perhaps get it out of your system.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t, dear.”

Leonie was saved from having to address that comment as a woman approached the two men. At her arrival, they both dropped their cigarettes and stamped them out. She said something to them then started walking again, the two men on her heels. 

“Come on,” Leonie headed after them, pursuing her investigation as much as she was escaping the conversation. Zarenyia, at least, followed without further comment. 

They followed the trio as they turned a corner and began heading out of the square.

“You know,” Zarenyia said, thankfully keeping her voice down without having to be told, “when it was just the two of them, they seemed like perfectly normal potential murderers. But now,” she hesitated.

“What is it?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she said, clearly unhappy about that fact, “but something about her is  _ unusual _ .”

Leonie slowed her pace slightly, eyes flicking between her companion and their targets. 

“Is she human?” she asked, missing a time when she’d have never even thought to ask that. 

“Yes,” Zarenyia answered with certainty, “that kind of thing is obvious, at least to me.” She frowned, “I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Is she dangerous?” Leonie became unfortunately aware of the fact that she was unarmed. She had thought bringing a gun to lunch was unnecessary, but was now regretting that decision. 

“Anyone can be dangerous if they’re determined enough. But don’t worry, dear,” Zarenyia said, “I’m still the most dangerous thing here.” She looped their arms together and pulled Leonie ahead, making up some of the distance that had grown between their two groups.

“Careful,” Leonie hissed, “there’s less people over here, we don’t want them to notice us.”

“I know, but less people also means I can hear them if we get just a little bit closer.”

Leonie let herself be pulled a little bit faster, weaving around other pedestrians. They were almost within hearing distance when the trio ahead of them abruptly turned to head into a hotel. Picking up their pace even more, no longer concerned about being seen, Leonie and Zarenyia arrived just in time to see the trio accept a key from the concierge and head towards the stairwell. 

“We need to go after them, but I doubt they’ll just let us in without a reservation.”

“Leave that to me, dear,” Zarenyia said, relinquishing her grip on Leonie’s arm. With no further explanation, she walked through the front door. Leonie followed after a moment’s hesitation. 

The concierge greeted Zarenyia in Italian and she responded in kind. Leonie didn’t understand exactly what was said, but she was familiar enough with Zarenyia to know that it didn’t really matter. 

She watched as Zarenyia’s diabolic powers took hold. The concierge leaned forward, lost in her, all higher brain power shutting off. Leonie looked away, uncomfortable, and moved past them to the stairs. She looked up the spiral just in time to see the two men and the woman exit on the third floor. 

She started after them, stopped, and looked back at Zarenyia. 

“Come on, leave him alone, we don’t want to lose them.”

Zarenyia glanced up at her, looked reluctantly back at the concierge, then sighed and followed Leonie up the stairs. 

“They went through here,” she said, leading them through the door. They exited the stairs into a drab hallway with no less than a dozen identical doors and no sign of which one belonged to the people they were trailing. 

“Dammnit, how do we know which one is theirs?”

Without answering, Zarenyia stepped up to the first door, stood for a moment, then shook her head, “Well, it’s not this one.” She moved to the next door, listened, her eyebrows rose, but she shook her head again, “Not this one either. A shame really, I wouldn’t have minded walking in on that.”

Leonie ignored that comment and went to a different door. She pressed her ear up to the small gap between the door and the wall, but it was useless.; she could hear soft, indistinct sounds that might have been voices, but she couldn’t make anything out. 

“I can’t hear anything, you’ll have to find them,” she said to Zarenyia, who had already listened to and discarded another two doors. 

“Not a problem, dear, this shouldn’t take too-” she cut off as she stopped in front of the next door.

“What?”

Zarenyia held up a finger, motioning for her to wait. Her brow furrowed and she moved a bit closer to the door. Leonie was impatient to know what she was listening to, but she didn’t want to risk talking over some important point. She also knew that what they were doing was, if not explicitly illegal, definitely frowned upon and if anyone walked out of their room, she wouldn’t have a good explanation for why they were doing it. 

When a voice called out from the far end of the hall, she whirled around, heart pounding, expecting a fourth member of the crew Zarenyia was still intently listening to. Instead, it was a young woman wearing a bellhop uniform. She started towards them and spoke again; Leonie couldn’t understand the words, but she knew the woman wasn’t happy. 

When she was just a few steps from them, Zarenyia pulled away from the door and turned to face her. The woman stopped in her tracks, anger melting off her face. Zarenyia rubbed a hand down her arm and said something that made the woman lean in towards her. A shiver ran down Leonie’s spine and she quickly turned away. Even with the full force of Zarenyia’s attention directed towards someone else, the effects seemed to permeate the air around her. 

After a moment, Zarenyia pulled away. The woman was left standing, but based on the way she was swaying, that might not have been the case for much longer. 

“Come along, dear,” Zarenyia said, linking her arm back through Leonie’s and tugging her to the stairs. They trotted down the stairs and then back past the concierge who still appeared a bit dazed. Zarenyia threw a smile and a “Grazie,” over her shoulder as they exited and he mumbled something back, clearly confused, but not yet sound enough to stop them or ask any questions. 

Once they were safely back on the streets and the hotel was becoming more and more distant behind them, Leonie finally spoke up.

“Did you hear what they’re planning?”

“I did.”

Leonie waited, but Zarenyia said nothing more.

“Will you tell me?”

“I will, once we’ve gotten somewhere more private. As we’ve just proven, you never know who might be listening and there’s too many people on the streets to keep track of them all.”

It made sense, but Leonie was still itching to know what had been learned. She satisfied herself by asking the second question that was on her mind.

“Those two back at the hotel, they’ll be alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them. They’ll come back to themselves in a few minutes with little memory beyond zoning out and having a pleasant daydream they can’t quite remember. A shame really, I  thought those uniforms were quite fetching.”

Leonie’s lips twisted in a grimace, but she forced herself to be satisfied that Zarenyia hadn’t left a death toll and kept her comments to herself. 

They arrived back at their hotel and Leonie immediately kicked off her shoes and dropped onto her bed. When dressing for lunch, she had not anticipated speed walking across half the city to follow potential criminals and she was sure she’d have several new blisters under her stockings to show for it. 

But there was nothing to be done for it. Rather than waste time worrying about the state of her heels, she got right to business. “Can we talk here?”

Zarenyia nodded, “There’s no one close enough to hear us. At least not that I can tell. And,” she continued, “if there’s anyone listening in who can hear us from farther away than I can sense or is capable of hiding themselves for me, then we have other things to worry about.”

“Okay, good,” said Leonie, deciding to ignore the possibility of supernatural eaves-droppers for the time being, “what did you hear?”

Zarenyia dropped onto the second bed, her fiery hair fanning out around her face. Rather than answer, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. “Do you think I could stretch myself out in here? Or is it too small? Being confined to two legs does get  _ so _ uncomfortable.”

“Do you think we could discuss that later? I would very much like to know what you overheard.”

“Right into it, then? Haven’t you ever heard of the value of buildup, of foreplay?” Leonie did her very best to look unimpressed and Zarenyia let out a put upon sigh, “Fine. Very well, then. We seem to have stumbled upon quite the plot. 

“Those two men we met at lunch are just hirelings. They referred to the woman as ‘boss’ and none of them mentioned anyone else involved in their little scheme. Unfortunately for us, they were never very specific about what they’re looking to steal. They just called it ‘Pacifica’s weapon.’”

“Weapon?” Leonie interrupted. Zarenyia nodded. “They’re only after one thing?” 

“As far as I could tell, yes. They didn’t give many details, they’ve clearly already been planning this for a while. Whatever this ‘weapon’ is, it’s in a museum here in Florence.”  Leonie huffed.  _ A museum in Florence _ , that hardly narrowed it down. 

“Hm,” Leonie hummed, considering, “Pacifica,” The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. 

“Does that mean something to you?” Zarenyia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m not sure. It feels familiar, but for all I know it could be a very common name. I might have heard it before, but that doesn’t mean it’s related.”

Even as she said it, she didn’t quite believe her own words. She knew better than to ignore a hunch, but she couldn’t place why the name seemed so familiar. She was sure she’d heard it before, but where?

It wasn’t a lot to go on. Whatever they were after, it was important enough to be in a museum. And it was some kind of weapon. And why did the name Pacifica sound so sound familiar? She’d clearly heard it a long time ago, if she was no longer able to remember where or why she’d heard it. 

She whispered the name to herself again. The sense of familiarity remained and she tried to focus on it and draw out any details she could. For some reason, the name conjured up memories of harsh white lighting, an uncomfortable chair, and the overwhelming scent of someone else’s perfume. 

It was a memory from school. Had she had a classmate with that name? She didn’t think so. Learned about someone with that name? Yes, that felt right. Still, that didn’t mean it was connected. Though, if Pacifica was someone she’d learned about, some important historical figure, that would fit with their belongings being in a museum.

“I can hear the gears turning,” Zarenyia interrupted her thoughts, “anything you’d care to share?”

“It’s the name. Pacifica. I know that I know it from somewhere. It might be nothing, but we don’t have much else to go on. I’d like to do some research, see if I can find anything about a historical figure named Pacifica.”

“Libraries are probably closing soon.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Zarenyia rolled onto her side and propped up her head on one arm, “And what happened to telling the authorities?” she asked with a smile, “we know where they’re staying. They’re bound to have something incriminating in that room; we could drop a tip. Or, if you’ve decided against involving the pigs, I could just head back over and take care of them myself.”

Turning them in was the right thing to do, but…”We don’t know for sure what they have in their room,” Leonie reasoned. “We don’t want to spook them by sending the police to their hotel and risk having them go free if they don’t find anything. We should wait ‘til we’re sure. And,” she continued, “even if they are criminals, I’m not comfortable condemning them to, well, you.”

Zarenyia smiled, then shrugged, “You don’t have to convince me, I’m always game for some extralegal fun. And like I said, I’m not starving, I can wait a little while longer to eat. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know how uptight you can get about breaking the law. Which reminds me,” she popped up, excited, “I know a great way to unwind.” She gave Leonie a heated look and Leonie, used to being propositioned by this point in their acquaintance, snorted and rolled her eyes.

“No, thank you. I prefer to survive my encounters.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I wouldn’t kill you and besides, it doesn’t have to be me. But I would be more than happy to help. If you'd just tell me what you’re looking for, I could make it very easy for you.”

“I am not looking for anything, I assure you.”

“You certainly  _ were  _ looking, then we went our separate ways.”

Leonie continued, “If that changes at some point in the future, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Zarenyia sighed, but seemed to accept it. “Fine, then,” she said, “but whatever happens, I want  _ all  _ the details.”

“I would never dream of withholding from you,” Leonie said, chuckling even as she felt her cheeks heat. “Now,” she changed the subject, “didn’t you want to, ah, stretch out?”

“Oh, yes. Do you think this room is big enough?”

It turned out, the room was big enough. After securely closing the drapes, triple locking the door, and rearranging some furniture, the room was able to accommodate Zarenyia’s preferred form. 

Leonie watched as Zarenyia went through a series of stretches with her previously hidden legs that were confusing and slightly unsettling. Lounging back on the cushy hotel pillows, she wondered, not unkindly, when her life had become so strange. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JLH really said that Leonie and Zarenyia spent several weeks hanging around together after the end of the FotHoC, and thought that he could get away with not showing us any of that. I decided to fill in the gaps.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and feel free to say hi or send some requests/prompts on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

The following day, the two of them headed out after breakfast in search of a library. They’d gotten a recommendation and directions from their concierge and with no reason to delay, they’d headed straight over. 

The streets were mostly empty and Zarenyia filled their trip over with light chatter and commentary on the few people they ran into. Leonie was half listening, half thinking. 

She still couldn’t quite place the name, but she had such a strong hunch that she at least wanted to see her theory through. And if she couldn’t find anything in the library and couldn’t come up with another theory, she’d be forced to turn it over to authorities. Or to Zarenyia.

She probably should have just turned them in to the police to begin with. This wasn’t her responsibility. But it’s not like she was hurting anyone by investigating it herself. As far as she knew, the police might also be aware of the thieves plans and were conducting their own investigation. And if Leonie could give them some new information to help, well, wouldn’t that be beneficial for everyone?

She sighed, shaking her head; when had she gotten so comfortable with operating outside the law? What would her father think?  _ He’d think you’re being reckless,  _ she thought to herself,  _ following criminals and investigating on your own. You’re putting yourself in danger. _

Zarenyia tugged on her arm and pointed out the coat on a woman passing by, “Ooh, I like that. What do you think? Could I pull it off?”

Leonie rolled her eyes, “Zarenyia, you’d look good in rags and you know it.”

“It still doesn’t hurt to hear it, you know,” Zarenyia replied, clearly pleased. 

_ At least I’m not running after criminals alone, _ she thought. Zarenyia was surprisingly good company. She was funny, engaging, and if you could get past her penchant for innuendos and homicide, she was sweet, in her own strange way. And the fact that she could easily kill almost anything they may come across that wished them harm didn’t hurt. 

_ I doubt that would make dad any happier, _ she chuckled to herself while thinking of how she would explain it.  _ Don’t worry, I’m being safe. My traveling companion is a Devil who would happily kill anyone she came across and she’s promised to protect me, so I’ll be fine.  _

Her musings were cut short as they came to their destination. The heavy wooden doors were shut and for a moment she worried it was closed. Zarenyia had no such worries and she hurried to the door and pushed until it opened. It moved easily and silently. The entryway was mostly empty except for a bored looking woman sitting behind a desk who glanced up when they entered, but made no move to stop them. 

Further in, the library opened into a large hall with high ceilings reminiscent of a cathedral. Tall shelves held thousands of books and desks and chairs were sporadically placed amongst them.

After a moment to take it in, Zarenyia asked, “So, where do we start?”

“That,” Leonie said, tugging off her coat, “is a great question.”

There was no clear place for them to begin their research, as they knew very little about what it was they were researching. It took a few false starts and dead ends and venturing deeper into the stacks  for Leonie to find a promising method of research.

Or at least, it was promising in theory. 

She’d come across a massive set of encyclopedias all focused on the history of the country and she was making her way through them in reverse, scanning the index for any mention of the name Pacifica. The first two books gave her nothing useful, but she resolved to continue. She was giving herself until the point in history where recognizably Italian names gave way to Latin and the chances of encountering a Pacifica shrank to zero. 

Zarenyia was little help. She sat at a table, amusing herself by flicking through the books Leonie had already discarded, providing commentary on historical instances of violence and occasionally reminiscing about where she’d been at the time in question. 

Leonie did not appreciate her remarks, but she figured it was too much to ask that a being of elemental evil be more respectful of human tragedies. At the very least, she wasn’t actively interfering with Leonie’s research and they were far enough away from any other patrons that no one told her to be quiet. 

Leonie dropped the next book on the table with a thud and flipped to the index, stopping on the page listing topics that started with the letter ‘P.’ She ran a finger down the list, eyes scanning the words, looking for the name she wanted. 

And there it was!  _ Pacifica, famiglia  _ on page 342.

“I think I found something,” she said to Zarenyia, who looked up from her own book, “I’ll need your help to read it.”

“Not a problem dear, you know I’ll do anything to please you.”

Leonie ignored the innuendo, used to it and too excited to be put off. Finally, she had something that might prove useful. 

She found the right page. It was a wall of small text titled ‘La famiglia Pacifica’ with two images, the first a painted portrait of a woman and the second was what looked like a pencil sketch of a long, thin knife.  _ A weapon _ , her mind excitedly supplied.

She passed the book to Zarenyia who squinted at it, her eyes moving back and forth across the lines. Leonie waited in anticipation. She had a good feeling about this. She watched as a smile spread across Zarenyia’s face and her eyebrows rose in obvious enjoyment.

“Well,” Zarenyia said, “this Francesca Pacifica was certainly quite a woman,” she pointed at the portrait. 

“What did she do?”

“What any sensible person would do, if you ask me. She succumbed to a fit of rage and became a mass murderer.”

“What?”

“Mhm, says so right here. She caught her husband being a bit too familiar with the maid and snapped. Killed them both, then killed everyone else in the house, then killed herself before anyone could get to her. See, this just proves my point that humans really need to stop being so uptight about sex. I can’t say I disapprove of her method of problem solving, but still, sleeping around is hardly a problem, if you ask me. Actually, if you ask me, I say it’s not a problem at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Leonie was still reeling a bit from the information she’d just received. “You mean, she killed her entire family?”

“Yep, and the entire waitstaff. And she used this to do it,” she dragged her finger down to the illustration of a knife, “some old family heirloom, supposed to be more decorative than anything else. She apparently came from some old money family, the type to just have these kinds of things lying around. You know how those Renaissance noble types were.”

Leonie, in fact, had no first-hand knowledge of anyone from the Renaissance, but that was really not what she was most focused on, so she made no comment on it. 

As she absorbed the information, more of her memories started to come back. Of course, that was why she’d recognized the name. 

In a history class she’d taken as a teenager, the teacher had given the class more freedom than usual when choosing presentation topics, hoping to inspire passion and maybe even enjoyment in her students. 

One of the boys in the class had used the opportunity to educate his peers on murderers and serial killers of the past; specifically, those he felt hadn’t received the recognition they deserved. He’d also spent a decent chunk of time tearing down those he felt had received to much credit, like the mediocre and far over-hyped Jack the Ripper and those who were no doubt prolific, but extolled to the point of boredom, like Elizabeth Bathory and  Vlad Țepeș.

He had shown perhaps too much enjoyment in describing the nature of their crimes. Francesca Pacifica had been among them, she was sure, though she didn’t think he’d spent much time on the specifics of the weapon she’d used. After that assignment, the teacher had kept a much tighter leash on their activities. 

“That has to be what they’re after. That’s what you overheard, right? They’re trying to steal ‘Pacifica’s weapon’ and,” she pointed down at the page, “there it is.” She couldn’t believe it. Her hunch had paid off and they’d actually found it!

_ Thanks, William, _ she thought. Hopefully wherever her old classmate was, he’d gotten the help he’d so clearly needed. 

Now, they just had to figure out what museum it was in and then-and then what? They’d found what they were looking for, it was time to hand it off to the professionals.

She snapped the book shut. “We should pass this information on to the authorities, now that we’ve found what they’re going after.”

“We could pass it on,” Zarenyia agreed, “unless, of course, you’d rather not,” she said, voice heavy with implications. 

“We really should,” she wasn’t actually a private detective. At least, not yet. And even if she was, no one had hired her for this case. But she was loath to hand it over to someone else. It was her hunch that had gotten them this far and she wanted to see it through. 

“If it were up to me,” Zarenyia continued, ignoring her internal turmoil. “I would have killed those two back at the café for talking too loudly while I was having a conversation. Or at the hotel when we had them cornered. But I did promise not to do that sort of thing. So, we’re doing this your way. I’m just trying to help you figure out what ‘your way’ is.” She finished with a smile, a comely expression that was slightly undercut by the ever-present gleam of homicidal mania in her eye.

“Help me figure out...Zarenyia, are you trying to  _ tempt _ me?”

“Of course I am. It comes with the whole,” she made a vague gesture, “agent of evil and chaos thing. I think it’ll be more fun to do this the illegal way and I do think you’d prefer it too. You’re just having  some trouble admitting it yourself. And if I get to have my way with those three, well, then that’s just an added bonus.”

Leonie paused, conflicted. On the one hand, she liked Zarenyia and she could recognize some truth in her words. She was right that Leonie  _ did _ want to give up the pretense of going to the police and take matters into her own hands, despite knowing that she shouldn’t. On the other hand, Zarenyia was, by her own words, an agent of evil and chaos, and having such a being openly endorse one option, should have made it a clear choice.

But…

She really did want to do this. And she’d made it this far on just a hunch, surely she and Zarenyia could stop them without help. And besides, she thought, allowing herself a moment of selfishness, hadn’t she just died rather recently? That seemed like the kind of thing that gave a person the right to be a little self-indulgent. The same way a particularly long and difficult day at work might justify skipping a workout or overindulging in comfort food. She’d earned it.

“I think,” she began, looking into Zarenyia’s eager eyes, “that the two of us can handle this on our own, don’t you?”

Zarenyia clapped her hands together and bounced excitedly, “I knew I made the right choice coming with you.”

With a little more research and some help from a librarian, they were able to locate the knife. It was in a small gallery across the city that catered to those with an interest in the darker bits of history. Zarenyia tried to charm their way past the ticket counter, but Leonie insisted on paying. It was one thing to skirt the law to catch thieves, it was another to cheat a small business out of money. Appropriately obtained tickets in hand, they entered the museum. 

Medieval torture devices stood in clusters next to executioners' tools and weapons of cruel design. Zarenyia oohed and aahed like she was in a jewelry store, while Leonie looked around in morbid curiosity. A glass case of knives caught her attention.

“I think I found something,” she said, pulling Zarenyia’s attention away from the pear of anguish she’d been cooing over. Leonie scanned the weapons in the case. They were all similar in design and, in turn, were all similar to the drawing. They were about a foot to a foot and a half long with shining blades that tapered to sharp points. The hilts and crossguards varied slightly and Leonie tried to remember exactly what the drawing had looked like. 

Zarenyia came up beside her and examined the contents of the case. “Is it one of these?” she asked. 

“I think so,” Leonie answered. 

“Is it this one, by any chance?” Zarenyia asked, tapping the glass above one of the knives. It was similar in size and shape to the others. It’s crossguard was the shape of a wide V, rather than straight, either side at a fourty-five degree angle to the blade. The wooden hilt was rubbed smooth from use, slightly contoured to the shape of a hand. The pommel was engraved with a strange symbol. 

Leonie checked the tag on the dagger and skimmed down the placard in front of the case until she found the right one. She couldn’t read most of the description, but she could recognize the name Francesca Pacifica. 

“It is,” she said excitedly, “how did you know?” She looked back at Zarenyia and her excitement cooled at the expression on the other woman’s face. She was grimacing, the way one does when encountering something slightly less than ideal. “What is it?”

“It seems the artist left a few small details out of their rendition of this blade. And I think I’ve discovered how a single person on the wrong side of middle age managed to take on an entire household. That sigil,” she tapped the glass again, indicating the inscription on the pommel, “is for binding some rather malevolent powers.”

“So, you mean-”

“Not only was Signora Pacifica evil and murderous herself, she employed beings even more evil and murderous to help her kill her entire family. I must tell you, Leonie, I’m really starting to like this woman.”

Leonie sighed, “What do you think are the odds that the thieves are after this weapon for completely mundane reasons?”

“Well, of course I can’t know for sure, but if I had to guess? Very low.”

That’s what she figured, but still, it didn’t hurt to get a second opinion before succumbing to irritation. Was this her lot in life now? Was it a coincidence or was the universe serving her the consequences of choosing the companionship of Devils, vampires, and necromancers? 

“That changes things,” she said. At the very least, it cured her of the little remaining guilt she felt over not taking the case to the police. She doubted they were equipped to handle a robbery of this kind. 

“We’ve found it. What now?"

“Well,” Leonie said, “we can’t let them get their hands on it. Whatever they’re planning, it can’t be good.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s awful,” she leaned on the display case. “We could just take it ourselves. Come back here once the place closes, it shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said, eyes flicking around the room.

“Zarenyia, we’re trying to prevent a theft, not commit one ourselves.”

“Really? It’s the theft you’re worried about? I thought it was the potential murder of witnesses and,” she tapped the glass again, “whatever havoc those things may wreak if unleashed. I doubt the museum knows what they have here. If we leave the knife, someone else could come in and take it once we’ve left.”

That last bit was a fair point, but “The knife hasn’t been used in centuries. And it’s been fine here for at least a few decades. Surely, it will be fine if we just leave it. Now, what exactly do you know about the entities tied to this sigil?”

“I’m no expert in powers other than my own, but if memory serves, they excel in chaos and violence and little else. I know you have your morals and whatnot, but whatever these people have planned, I’m sure you won’t like it. And we already know where they’re staying. Really, it wouldn’t be too hard to stop them.”

Leonie bit her lip and looked back down at the knife. In the case, it looked rather unimpressive; pretty, maybe, but unremarkable. But if what Zarenyia said was true, it would certainly cause havoc and death in the wrong hands.

“We should go back to our hotel.”

“Really, dear, just give me a yes or no. There’s no point in delaying-”

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Leonie repeated, “because, even with your powers, I refuse to walk into this unarmed.”

Zarenyia stared at her for a moment, parsing out her words, then squealed with joy, “Yes, yes! Come along, love. I knew you were more fun than you seemed.”

Before Leonie had a chance to decide whether she should be offended or not, Zarenyia grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the museum to the nearest taxi stand. Zarenyia rattled off the name of their hotel and they were off. 

The trip was short and soon enough they were back in their own room. 

“Just to avoid any confusion at an inopportune time,” Zarenyia began, “we are going over there to  _ take care _ of thieves, yes? I want to make sure we’re on the same page and that you won’t have some kind of crisis of conscience once we get there.”

Leonie drew her handgun from the depths of her luggage and sighed, “Yes, we are  _ taking care  _ of them. We already know they’re willing to kill to get the knife, and whatever they have planned for once they have it, can’t be good. And who knows what else they’re involved in, if they’re going after that dagger in particular. A normal prison may not be enough to hold them.”

“Are you telling this to me or to yourself? Trust me, dear, I don’t need any convincing. So, I ask again, will I have to worry about you suddenly changing your mind?” 

Leonie shifted the grip on her gun and went over all their information again in her head. There really was only one clear option. She tucked the gun into her bag where it would be hidden, but still within reach, and turned back to Zarenyia, gaze steady and chin held high. 

“No. They need to be taken care of, so we’re going to do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Feel free to say hi or send some requests/prompts on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

They walked to the hotel they’d followed the thieves to the other day. It would have been much quicker and easier to find another taxi, but considering Zarenyia was planning on killing people once they got there, it was better to have no driver to potentially point fingers. Leonie made sure to wear more comfortable shoes for the occasion. 

Sooner than seemed possible, they were in front of the hotel. Just like last time, Zarenyia charged up the stairs. This time, Leonie was right on her heels, no hesitation. 

“Go on ahead,” Zarenyia said, nodding towards the stairs as she took care of the concierge. Leonie ignored them and started up the stairs, dodging a laughing couple on her way to the third floor. 

Moving by memory, she approached their door, slowing as she got closer. She double checked the hall to make sure she was alone and pressed her ear to the door. She couldn’t hear anything, but her human ears could only go so far. She’d need Zarenyia to confirm whether there was anyone there or not. 

She pulled a hairpin loose from her curls, then almost dropped it when she heard the stairwell door slam open. Heart pounding, she whirled around, expecting to see one or all of the thieves. Instead, she sagged in relief at the sight of Zarenyia. 

“How’s the concierge?” she asked

“Taken care of.”

Leonie raised an eyebrow and Zarenyia rolled her eyes, “She’s fine, I know how to keep you happy. And besides,” she smiled, malevolence sparkling in her eyes, “I don’t need an appetizer.”

Letting out a breath, Leonie turned back to the door, “I don’t think they’re here,” she said, allowing Zarenyia to step closer to the door to listen for herself. 

Zarenyia nodded, “I don’t hear anything, so we may as well wait for them.” Leonie nodded, crouching down to get to work on the lock. She fiddled for a few moments with the mechanism before there was a satisfying click. 

Zarenyia put a hand on her shoulder, “Allow me to go first.” Nodding, Leonie stood up and stepped back, dropping a hand into her bag, placing a hand on the holster of the gun she had hidden. 

Showing uncharacteristic caution, Zarenyia stood to the side of the door and carefully pushed it open. The room was silent and Zarenyia edged her way in. 

“It’s empty” she called, “and there’s nothing fun here.” Leonie followed after her. 

The room was ordinary enough. There were two narrow beds and an armchair in the corner. There were two duffle bags on the floor and a rucksack laying spilled out on the far bed.

“Hm, this is a bit of an anticlimax,” Zarenyia said, nudging at one of the duffle bags with a toe. 

“Well, we’re here,” Leonie replied, heading further into the room, “may as well see what we can find.”

A quick rifle through the duffle bags revealed nothing but clothing. The bag on the bed, however, proved more interesting. A worn notebook sat on top of the pile of spilled papers; Leonie flipped through it, but the language wasn’t familiar. Even with her limited knowledge, she was pretty sure most of it wasn’t Italian. 

It was mostly text, but there were also diagrams and calculations and collections of strange symbols. Some of the math was familiar to Leonie and parts of the diagrams looked simple enough, but without proper context, she couldn’t begin to fathom what any of it was for. 

Some of the symbols, however, she was pretty sure she understood. Half a page was dedicated to a drawing of the same sigil that was engraved on the dagger. As she flipped further into the book, there were more sigils and something similar to the circle that had summoned Zarenyia herself. 

And wasn’t that a thought. As fond as Leonie had grown of the Devil, she wasn’t eager to meet another. 

“Find something interesting?” Zarenyia asked.

“Unfortunately,” Leonie handed over the notebook, “looks like we were right and they’re not just in the market for an antique knife.” Zarenyia took the book and skimmed through it herself. 

Zarenyia hummed in agreement, “It appears so. That does explain why their leader seemed so strange. Gotten into some dark things, she has,” she flipped another page, nodding, “dark things indeed. Still, it shouldn’t be much trouble for me to deal with her, witch or not.”

“And by deal with you mean-”

“I’m going to kill them, dear.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“And you’re okay with that? Not going to moralize at me?” She handed the notebook back over. 

“There wouldn’t be much of a point, would there? And besides,” she accepted the book and turned back to the other papers on the bed. Much of it held no meaning for her, but she did recognize a pamphlet advertising the museum housing the knife, as well as a set of building plans, “something tells me these people don’t deserve my sympathy.”

She dropped the papers when the door knob started to rattle and her hand went back to the gun. She glanced at Zarenyia, who raised an eyebrow and said, “I guess that’s my cue.” 

The door swung open and the two henchmen appeared in the doorway. For a second the four of them stared at each other. The taller of the two men yelled something in Italian and Leonie couldn’t understand the words, but his tone and the way they both reached under their jackets was clear enough. 

Her grip tightened and she started to pull her own gun from her bag, but Zarenyia waved a hand, “That won’t be necessary,” she said calmly, turning towards the men. They leveled their guns at her, but Zarenyia stood calmly before them, “Leonie, dear, I think you should be leaving.” 

Leonie paused, her hand still in her bag. One of the men barked something else and Zarenyia returned her attention to them, shaking her head, “No, no, none of that.” Their posture wavered, eyes going hazy and guns lowering as her powers took effect. 

“Right,” Leonie said, eager to be out of the way, “I’ll wait outside.” Keeping a tight grip on her gun, she started moving closer to the two men. Despite being ready to shoot her seconds before, now they barely noticed her. She edged around them and out the door as they moved closer to Zarenyia, guns falling forgotten from their limp fingers. 

The door slammed shut behind her and she let out a heavy breath, finally allowing her fingers to relax. There were already muffled noises coming from the room behind her, but she chose to ignore them. Instead, moving to lean against the wall across from the door, keeping an eye on it. 

She tapped her foot, the soft thuds the only sound in the empty hall. She didn’t know enough about Zarenyia’s  _ habits _ to know exactly how long to expect her to take, but she hoped at least that the Devil knew that now was the time for speed, not savoring. 

Wholly focused on the room across from her, Leonie started as the door to the stairs creaked open at the end of the hall. Silently berating herself for letting her guard down, she thought quickly about what to do. She figured it would be suspicious to be caught loitering in the hallway, so she started walking, as if leaving her own room and heading out. Once whoever was coming went into their own room, she could return to her post. She forced herself to keep her pace even and her face blank as the door opened fully and a familiar figure stepped through. 

Despite having more experience than the average person, Leonie was well aware that she was far from an expert in occult matters, and therefore should reserve judgement. Still, she couldn’t help but think that woman before her did not look much like a witch. Her best basis for comparison was Miss Smith, and this woman lacked the dramatic black clothing and crown that had made Miss Smith’s appearance so memorable. Her fashionable and neutral-toned outfit made her appear more like a salesperson from an upscale boutique than someone dealing in cursed objects.

Despite that, Leonie couldn’t help but feel a certain malevolence emanating from the woman. Whether it was her knowledge of the woman’s true nature tainting her perception or if the woman really did have some kind of aura she could sense, she couldn’t tell.

They passed each other and made brief eye contact. Leonie quirked her lips slightly in acknowledgment, a gesture the woman did not return. 

When Leonie reached the door she paused, pulling it open a few inches, then stopping and glancing over her shoulder. The woman had also stalled, the key was in the lock and her hand on the door knob, but her face was furrowed in concentration. 

_ Come on, _ Leonie silently urged,  _ just open the door and Zarenyia will take care of you. _

Frustratingly, the woman did not open the door. Rather, she pulled her hand from the knob and stepped back, still staring at the door. Leonie’s hand went back into her bag.

The woman glanced up and again they made eye contact. This time, instead of quickly looking away, she held the contact, turning away from the door to face Leonie fully. She spoke and Leonie’s grasp on the language may have been limited, but she was pretty sure she asked  _ what are you doing? _

“I’m sorry,” Leonie said, playing dumb, “I don’t understand.”

Undeterred, the woman took a step towards her. “What are you doing here?” she asked again, “and what is happening in my room?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leonie replied, smiling pleasantly, “I’m just headed out for some sightseeing. If you’re having a problem with your room, I’m sure someone at the front desk will be able to help you.”

The woman moved closer still. “There is  _ something _ in that room. Why are you here?” She broke eye contact just long enough for her gaze to flick down to where Leonie’s hand disappeared into her bag.

Realizing she’d been made, Leonie dropped the façade and faced the woman fully. “Why don’t you open the door and find out?”

“Who are you? And what do you want?”

_ I want you to open that damn door, _ Leonie thought; she wondered if Zarenyia could hear them or if she was too busy. 

“I’m no one important” she replied instead. If she could just stall, maybe Zarenyia would notice them or Leonie herself would figure out a way to get to the door, “Who are you?”

The woman sneered at her, “That’s no concern of yours. You couldn’t even begin to understand who or  _ what  _ I am.”

Leonie just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Really?” she asked, “because I’ve actually got pretty high standards for this kind of stuff. And I’ll be honest, you’re not measuring up.”

The witch’s sneer curled into something angrier, her brows furrowing and eye sparking in anger, “You think so? Then perhaps I’ll show you what I am capable of.” She twisted one hand in a strange gesture in front of her chest and pointed the other at Leonie, the air at the tips of her fingers seeming to ripple.

In the same instant, Leonie had the gun out of her bag and levelled at the other woman’s head. The witch froze, her hands still twisted and Leonie watched her down the barrel of the gun. For a second, they both stood still, each watching the other, neither daring to be the first to fire. 

The witch raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead, shoot. Even  _ if _ you kill me,” she flexed her fingers, the air rippling once again, “as soon as that gun goes off, everyone will run from their rooms to see what happened. And then what happens to you?”

Leonie didn’t let it show, but she considered the woman’s words. She wasn’t wrong, a gunshot would draw attention, but Leonie wasn’t about to get herself killed or let the other woman get away. 

The woman opened her mouth to speak again and Leonie made a split-second decision. Foregoing the gun, Leonie threw herself at the other woman, covering the scant distance between them in a single lunge. Completely taken aback, the witch hesitated for just a second, but it was enough time for Leonie to slam into her, cutting off her words and taking them both to the floor. Leonie landed on top of the other woman, whose head knocked hard against the floor, momentarily stunning her. 

Not giving her a chance to recover, Leonie swung at her face, ignoring the sting as her knuckle clipped a tooth. The woman hit back, seeming to forget whatever spell she’d been about to cast in her rage. Instead, she clawed at Leonie's face, going for her eyes. Feeling sharp fingernails claw at her temple, just shy of their mark, Leonie moved quickly. Rather than strike at her face again, Leonie dropped a heavy elbow into the woman’s ribs. The witch curled under her in pain, breath coming out in a forced gasp. 

The witch temporarily incapacitated, Leonie scrambled to her feet, lunging for the door. The key was still in the lock and she was able to turn it and throw the door open right as she felt the witch grab her from behind. 

The sight that awaited them was unlike anything she had ever seen before. She’d been near Zarenyia while she’d fed before, she’d  _ heard _ it before, but she’d never  _ looked. _ It was, she was sure, a sight that would never leave her, but at the same time, she was equally sure that her memory would never be able to completely recreate exactly what she was seeing. 

The witch seemed equally stunned. One hand was tangled in Leonie’s hair, as if she’d meant to yank her back before they’d both been rendered immobile. 

From the scene before them, Zarenyia detached herself. Too many legs carried her to the doorway, bringing with her a thick cloud of intoxicating mesmerism.

The small part of Leonie’s brain still capable of rational thought was infinitely thankful that no one else had opened their doors during the scuffle. 

“Oh, I was wondering when you’d arrive,” Zarenyia said. She smiled and Leonie watched as a long, thin fang she’d never noticed before extended out from Zarenyia’s mouth. Reaching out to cup the witch’s cheek, she leaned down and pulled her into a deep kiss. The witch fell slack in her arms and Zarenyia pulled away. 

She looked up from her prey and locked eyes with Leonie, who was still staring, horrified, yet unable to look away from the scene before her. 

“You should wait outside. Unless, of course, you like to watch,” she winked. Leonie shook her head dumbly and tried to form a response, but was unable to produce more than a mumble. 

She backed away, unable to tear her eyes away until the door slammed shut in her face. Rubbing at her eyes, she tried to clear her head, but it didn’t help much. Still feeling unsteady, she sunk down against the wall and put her head between her knees. 

A little while later-she could not reliably guess exactly how much later-the door opened again and Zarenyia stepped out. She was beaming and slightly flushed, the witch’s backpack with all her notes was slung over her shoulder. 

“Well,” she clapped her hands together, “that was fun. But we really should be going.” She extended a hand and Leonie took it, letting herself be pulled to her feet. 

She swayed a bit when she tried standing on her own, and Zarenyia frowned, “We should head back to our own hotel. Humans are not meant to come so close to my  _ activities _ and live. Especially when I’m in the middle of it like that. You must still be a bit out of it.”

Leonie nodded as Zarenyia linked their arms and headed towards the stairs, “Will I be okay?” she asked.

“Of course, dear,” she patted her arm comfortingly, “though, a nap might do you some good.”

“And those three?”

“Taken care of. Quite well, if you ask me. And it’s likely no one will realize what’s happened until they fail to check out, which should give us plenty of time to move on.”

“Time to get out of Florence, then?” It definitely hadn’t been the experience she’d been expecting, but she couldn’t say she’d been bored. 

“Seems like a good idea. Better safe than sorry.”

“What do you think the police will make of,” she waved a hand behind them, “all that?”

“Oh, who knows? It never ceases to amaze me the lengths humans will go to to deny what’s right in front of their eyes if it doesn’t fit their  _ very  _ narrow worldview. They’ll just call it a very bizarre murder or perhaps chalk it up to some strange kink gone horribly wrong. I’m sure they’ll think of something.”

“And the bag?”

“Figured it was better than leaving it there; raises too many questions.”

Leonie nodded. That answer made enough sense for her to be satisfied, at least for the time being. Zarenyia was right that she still wasn’t completely in the right mind. It felt a bit like she’d drank too much wine and a bit like she’d walked in on a Devil pulling people’s souls out through their genitals. 

Really, it was enough to rattle anyone. 

“But don’t worry about that right now,” Zarenyia continued, “I do believe a bed would do you good, and for once, I actually mean for sleeping. Now, come along.”

Leonie allowed herself to be gently tugged and prodded back to their hotel and upon arriving, collapsed onto her bed, barely taking the time to kick off her shoes. 

She was vaguely aware of a hand stroking her hair and a soft voice crooning, “Sleep, dear, go to sleep,” before finally succumbing. 

* * *

The Italian countryside was a pleasant blur outside the train window. Leonie had brought a book for the ride, but it lay unopened on the empty seat next to her. Across from her, Zarenyia was sitting with her legs-only 2 at the moment-up on the seat, folded beneath her in a rather unladylike fashion. 

Leonie let her head rest against the window, the rumble of the train lulling her into a trance as the scenery sped by. 

“So,” Zarenyia began, bringing Leonie back to alertness, “for the next leg of our vacation, I propose we actually take a vacation. Don’t get me wrong, I love murder and intrigue as much as the next Devil, but this sense of responsibility that keeps being forced on me is really rather tiresome. From now on, I say we indulge in some good, old-fashioned hedonism.”

Leonie snorted out a laugh, “Though I think our definitions vary greatly, I wouldn’t be opposed to having some fun either,” she thought for a moment, then added, “as long as the violence is kept to a minimum.”

Zarenyia waved a hand, unconcerned, “Don’t worry, love; I know how to behave. Most of the time. Oh!” she suddenly sat up straighter in her seat, “that reminds me, I got you a souvenir.”

“A souvenir?” Leonie asked, almost afraid to ask. Zarenyia nodded, opening her bag and digging through it.

“You probably wouldn’t call this ‘behaving,’ which is why I wanted to wait until we’d left before I gave it to you.”

“Zarenyia,” Leonie started, but once again, she was waved off.

“It’s too late to object, so you’re really better off just accepting it.” From her bag, Zarenyia pulled out a bundle of fabric and offered it to Leonie. 

Hesitantly, Leonie accepted the bundle. She was surprised by how heavy it was and it took her a second to realize the fabric was merely the wrapping. She started pulling it out of the way and the object within slowly revealed itself. She stopped unwrapping, eyes widening. She looked up at Zarenyia, “You didn’t,” she said, even though she clearly had. 

Zarenyia just smiled wider. “Go on,” she encouraged, “finish unwrapping it.”

Glancing a few times between the object in her hands and the Devil sitting across from her, Leonie finally settled on the gift, pulling away the last few layers of fabric. 

The soft wrapping now resting on her lap, she was left holding Francesca Pacifica’s short-sword in her bare hands. 

After all the trouble it had caused, she’d expected to feel something. But there was nothing. It was a bit heavier than she expected, but overall, it felt as unassuming as a kitchen knife.

“Why?” she asked, “after all the trouble we went through to keep it from being stolen-”

“Ah,” Zarenyia interrupted, holding up a finger, “we were trying to prevent it from falling into the hands of criminals. And protect anyone who may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But now, it’s in your hands. And I promise, no one was harmed in its acquisition.”

“Zarenyia, I don’t want this. Why wouldn’t you just leave it in the museum? When did you take it?”

“Last night, after we’d finished with our friends, you went to sleep and I started looking through the papers in that backpack. Very thorough research, I must say. Building plans, back entrances, security schedules, the works. After I got bored of reading, I decided to go for a walk. One thing led to another, I wound up back at the museum while it was closed and, well, here we are,” she smiled brightly before continuing: 

“And why should I have left it in the museum? That just seems irresponsible. This way, you can keep an eye on it and you get a souvenir, a practical-as well as decorative-weapon, and an easy and effective way to go on a murderous rampage, should the need arise.”

Leonie grimaced, holding the weapon further away from her person. “And how exactly does that work? I’d rather not have any accidents.”

“Whatever specific entity is tied to that dagger, I doubt it can be summoned accidentally. Those kinds of things usually require rituals; you know, candles, blood sacrifices, fancy words, the works.”

Leonie wasn’t completely convinced, but she had to admit, just holding it, it didn’t feel very malevolent and she wasn’t feeling particularly homicidal. 

She sighed, placing it down on her lap. Zarenyia was right about one thing; it was too late to give it back. Even if she turned around as soon as they reached the next station, she could hardly walk up to the museum and return a stolen item without some kind of explanation. 

“Typically, one is thanked for a gift.” Leonie looked up from the knife to frown at Zarenyia, who didn’t even bother to pretend to be anything other than gleeful. 

“I’m not thanking you for giving me a stolen murder weapon that I did not ask for.”

“Fine, then,” she huffed, “you’ll just have to get me a nice souvenir instead.”

Leonie raised an eyebrow, “I hope you’ll settle for some knickknack. I would rather not go after something like this again so soon.”

“Of course. I did say I think we’re owed some relaxation.”

Leonie re-wrapped the knife and tucked it away into her bag. She wasn’t comfortable having it, but she had no way of getting rid of it at the moment, so for now, she’d keep it with her. If nothing else, she could be sure no witches or wanna-be murderers were using it while it was in her possession. 

The train jerked slightly in its tracks and she looked back towards the window. The sun was getting low and the sky at the horizon was starting to turn purple. They still had quite a ways to go and there were several hours before she’d be able to fall asleep. Sighing heavily, she picked up her book and pushed all thoughts of her recent adventures from her head, losing herself in a fiction that was far less strange than her own life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is :) Thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to say hi or send some requests/prompts on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> JLH really said that Leonie and Zarenyia spent several weeks hanging around together after the end of the FotHoC, and thought that he could get away with not showing us any of that. I decided to fill in the gaps.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and feel free to say hi or send some requests/prompts on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com)


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